Endurance
by Phoenix's Fairy
Summary: He lays on the battlefield, waiting to die. But there's someone with him, someone special. OS, AU. A gift work for CMemlovr, the best beta


Disclaimer: Nothing's mine, everything's borrowed.

A/N: CMemlovr, I have to thank you for encouraging me in my writing, especially to write new things, and that you believe in me. It really means the world to me, honey.

This OS is dedicated to you :)

* * *

 _Coldness_.

He lay there, in her arms; the cold feeling in his limbs getting milder and milder. He didn't hear the cries of people, mourning on the battlefield. He didn't hear the last breath of someone who said goodbye to the world of living. He didn't smell the smoky air, full of blood and curses.

It was over, finally.

Somewhere in his mind he knew that his body should feel numb, that the coldness would creep through every bone, every muscle, every vein, until it finally reached his heart. ' _Freezing to death,'_ he thought sardonically.

He always thought that he'd be cursed to death - most likely the killing curse, if it came to somebody with a temper like Potter's – or as a result of being bitten by Nagini.

When he'd found himself facing the damn beast in the Shrieking Shack, he'd watched her long body winding around and around, finally crawling towards him, as she kept tabs on her prey. He'd known that he didn't have the slightest chance.

And so he stood there, watching and waiting. 

_Waiting._

A word so well-used and so easy to say, but so hard to endure.

It seemed as if this word reigned over him, had shaped his life since his childhood, pushed moments in places, pulled people away. He was always _waiting._

For a caring moment with his parents, for a friendship.

When he finally met _her_ , he hadn't waited. He'd called her a mudblood without hesitation. That stupid word had destroyed all his waiting, pulling her away from him.

And again- he waited. He waited and endured, finally finding others who thought in the same way he did. 

_Bearing it_.

Seeing all those people dying at his hand - dying at the hands of others. He hadn't acted - he didn't stop them. He _waited_.

For a saint, for a wonder- he didn't know what he was waiting for anymore. 

_Loyalty_.

Loyalty broke him down; made him lose _her_.

 _Bravery_.

Being brave enough to admit his mistakes, and to be loyal.

Loyalty to the right thing, to the light. And again, as always- waiting. Waiting for Potter to finish school, waiting to die. 

_Acceptance._

And he accepted the waiting, accepted his approaching death.

But death didn't come. In fact, he was whisked away seconds before Nagini reached him.

Lying there, in her arms, eyes barely open, he finally understood it.

It was her. Not Lily, but _her_.

His eternal damnation from potions class. Something rested against his cheek, and he tried to focus on whatever the thing was. A small object, dangling from a thin golden necklace.

A timeturner. He should've known.

He forced his eyes to stay open, and did his best to fight against the damn tiredness that surged within his body, flowing through his limbs, reaching his mind. 

_Endurance_.

Keeping his eyes open. She filled out all his focus, the sky behind her changing into a warm colour. This was it- the last sunset he would see in his life. 

_Feeling._

Her hand smoothing back his hair. She had some nasty cuts on her face, her bushy hair sticking to it and her neck, parts of it darker. He supposed it was blood. He didn't want to think of it. He only wanted to feel her strokes on his cheek, his chest, his arms.

He saw her lips moving, telling him something he couldn't understand.

It shouldn't take much longer, then he'd be gone.

But no, the know-it-all didn't let him. He started to feel again, a slight pressure on his arm, his hands.

She bent down to him, her hair stroking his cheek, tickling him in the nose. He didn't care _at all_.

"You did well. We won."

A shiver ran through his body, a faint glimmer of hope rustling through his mind.

"Why?"

He wouldn't have recognized his own voice if he hadn't knew he was the one who spoke, so hoarse did his voice sound. But he didn't care. He wanted to question it- the war, the victory, why he was laying on the _goddamn_ ground, his head resting in her lap, and _why the hell he wasn't dying_.

All he saw was her, their eyes locked together. God, it was all so _pathetic_.

Again, he didn't care.

"You've waited long enough," he heard her whisper.

"Stay, Severus. Stay with me" 

_Her._

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 _If you enjoyed reading this OS as much as I enjoyed writing it, let me know :)_


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